by Bebe Wilde
He started fingering me, touching me, teasing me. Lightly, lightly, lightly. Nothing too harsh or too insensitive. But, still, it was overwhelming. It was almost too much to bear, too much to take. Soon, I felt nothing but a flood of passion and intense heat spread through my body. I wanted to take his hand and bite at it, suck his fingers into my mouth and taste myself on him. But I didn’t move. There was something about not seeing his face and not knowing what he was going to do that made me just want to go along with what was happening.
He slid his hand in sideways again and rested it on my clit. Oh, yes. Now I could get it. And so, I did. I started going for it. Moving my slick, wet pussy against his hand. As I moved against his hand, his other hand grabbed my ass cheek again and squeezed. He leaned down again and kissed the small of my back, taking time to lick it just a little. And that’s all I needed. I came from the visual of his tongue on my naked back and from the pressure of his hand on my clit. I came for a good minute, a soft yet deep moan escaping my lips. I shuddered with the orgasm and once it was over, I wanted to climb on him, stick his cock in my pussy and ride the hell out of it.
When I came back down from the cloud of orgasm, I suddenly realized I was almost naked in front of this man. And he’d just made me come. He’d given me one of the best orgasms of my life and that made me feel just a little peculiar. It made me feel so vulnerable, almost weak. Once it was over, I felt a sudden flash of embarrassment. I didn’t like that feeling. Why was I feeling this after that? I had to get out of there. I was leaving and I wasn’t coming back. Yeah, that was what I was going to do. No more of this, of whatever this was. I was done. Right? I was done.
Before I could change my mind, I grabbed for my jeans, but he was on me in a second flat. He had me bent over the kitchen table and my legs spread wide. He wanted me now. He’d done the work and now it was his turn to play.
“Uh uh uh,” he said. “Not so soon, my love. We have to finish what we started.”
I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. I just wanted him. My embarrassment disappeared as my hands clawed the rough wood of the table and my breathing picked up. This was it. I wasn’t leaving, after all. No. He was right. We had to finish what we started. The slight shame and vulnerability I’d felt earlier had disappeared and now I was ready to take what he was going to give. I was glad he had been quick and hadn’t allowed me to flee. Yes, I was skittish, that much was true. What was truer was that I needed him to show me the way.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his breath on my back as he leaned heavily against me.
“Yes,” I replied breathlessly, not wanting to talk, not wanting him to talk, just wanting to get fucked. Show me what you can do, you bastard! Just show me! Stick your hard cock in me, fill me up and fuck me good! I didn’t say these things and I didn’t say these things because I didn’t have to. It was that intense. I knew he would soon be in me, fucking me from behind, with me taking it, wanting it, shouting his name, just like he said.
And I was.
The next thing I knew, his pants were around his ankles and his hard, wide and thick cock was in me, filling up my pussy and taking me over completely. It was almost too much to bear. It was so big, so big that I wondered for a second if it were real. I’d never had a cock this big—ever. He had to be at least eight, if not nine, long inches. Not only that, his cock was wide, which was the best part. It allowed me to really grab hold of it and ride it for all it was worth. It was like I receiving a gift I never knew I wanted but, once I had it, the realization of how much I’d been missing out on saddened me. I knew there was no going back after having this.
He reached around and grabbed my tits. I rose up to allow him more access and his hand went under my bra—the one item of clothing I’d yet to remove. But that didn’t matter. Having that one little item of clothing on added to the sheer intensity of what he was doing to me—fucking me hard—and made it all the more enticing. It made me feel even more naked than I would have had I been completely without clothing. He squeezed my breasts hard and then fingered the nipples which sent me into a passionate tizzy. More, more, more! I wanted to shout this at the top of my lungs. I could not get enough. As we fucked, I wondered what I’d been waiting for. Why I hadn’t done something like this sooner? Then I realized it was because I had been waiting on him, someone that would know perfectly well what I wanted and how to give it to me.
His hand went into my hair and slipped my ponytail holder out. My hair fell against my back. He pushed it to the side and pressed his face in my neck, which he sucked and licked. I shivered with delight at the sensation, loving every second of it. I moaned as he fucked me like this, as he fucked me dirty. I pressed back onto him, grinding it out, getting everything I could out of it and never wanting it to end. But, before I knew it, I was coming again. I came hard and fast and so did he, thrusting with all his might into me as he came inside of me. Then he collapsed on my back, breathing hard. I was breathing hard, too. It was like the wind had been knocked out of me. I was exhausted which meant it had been really, really good.
I didn’t move for a good few minutes. Neither did he. Then he turned me around and pushed me up on the table and kissed me. It was our first kiss and it had come only after we’d fucked. I didn’t pause to take that in. What that meant didn’t matter and it didn’t matter because this was no ordinary kiss. This kiss was deep, lust-driven and real. He licked at my lips before pushing his sweet tongue into my mouth. I sucked at his lips, at his tongue, eating at his mouth as my heart began to pound with lust again. His hands went down to my chest and touched it slightly, then his tongue dragged along my neck until it was near my breasts. Oh, yes. More, please. More of that. Now! His hand slipped under the strap of my bra and pulled it down until my breast was exposed, as my hard and erect nipple pointed at him and demanded attention. He bent down and licked that hard nipple slightly, then sucked it as hard as he could into his mouth.
“Ummm…” I moaned. “Oh, God, yes! Ummm…”
His other hand squeezed my other breast for a minute before slipping down to my legs, which were closed. He slipped his hand between them and I opened them wide for him. Then he began to just finger me, slipping his hand into my vagina while his thumb rested on my clit. I was about to come again. I knew this was possible, having multi-orgasms, but I didn’t know how it would feel if it happened to me. I guess one just needs the right stimulation. And he was giving me that in droves.
François didn’t move until I came again and I came hard. It was like there were fireworks exploding in my body, one right after the other. I shuddered with the orgasm and my head fell on his shoulder. It took me a minute or two to catch my breath.
Wow! Oh, wow! I’d never had anything like that in my life. It was so good and so dirty and just felt so right. Once again, for a moment, I almost felt shame; it was that good. But I wasn’t ashamed. Something changed in me that day. Something shifted. Maybe having sex like that was the ticket out of my repression. Maybe having sex with him did it. I didn’t care which, I just wanted more where that came from.
He turned away from me for a moment and pulled his pants up, zipping them. I stared at him, then down at my body, so naked and so vulnerable. I should probably get dressed, too.
But then I heard something outside, the sound of an approaching storm. This made me start and the sound brought us back to reality. We stared into each other’s eyes for a moment, then I glanced at the window.
“Is that thunder?”
He nodded. “Are you afraid?”
I gave a slight shrug without looking at him then pushed him away and went to the window. The sky was dark. It looked almost foreboding. “Whenever it would storm, my mother would wake us up and take us into the basement,” I said for some reason. “She was terrified of storms; afraid our house would get blown away by a big wind or something. She would shake with terror because my dad would usually be gone on the road. He was a truck driver.”
I heard him coming towa
rds me but I didn’t turn around. I knew he was coming for me, to me. Once more. I didn’t know if I could handle it again so soon. But instead of making a move, he simply put his arms around me and gave me a gentle squeeze, which baffled me. What was up with him?
When he pulled away, I realized this was a bad, bad idea. Having sex like this could only lead to one thing—me getting hurt and ending up with a broken heart. François was the kind of man women only dream about. I would soon find out about him and he’d disappointment me. He’d either cheat or, worse, lose interest and then where would I be? I’d be embarrassed, humiliated. I’d probably start obsessing about him or something. And that would be pathetic. No, I couldn’t let him have my heart, no way. Girls like me don’t end up with men like him. We just don’t. He was a dream and I needed to get back to reality. I told myself that I’d had my fun and that’s all I needed. I didn’t want to get entangled in something I might not be able to get out of.
“Come back tomorrow,” he said, staring at me. “We’ll try something new.”
“I’m not coming back,” I said.
“Why not?”
“This is all I wanted,” I said.
He chuckled and chucked me under the chin. “You know that you want more than that.”
I glared at him.
“When you get home, you’ll want it even more than you did before,” he said, stepping in close to me. “You’ll have to have it.”
He just knew everything, didn’t he? And knowing that pissed me off. Was I that obvious? Did he think that way about me? I was so pissed off at him then but mostly at myself for needing him like I knew I was going to. I was afraid of the need that he had awakened. I had put myself in a cage of self-doubt and was afraid to come out of it. Now he was making me leave it and I didn’t like it one bit.
“I won’t be back,” I said and started to dress.
“Stay.”
I ignored him and got dressed hastily. I had to get out of that place. There was a new side of me emerging and it was scaring me. I needed to be alone for a minute to gather myself, to pick apart my thoughts. I reached for my boots and started out.
“No,” he muttered and his voice changed, just like that. “You won’t go.”
I ignored him and headed to the door but the tone of his voice sent shivers up and down my spine and my feet hesitated. François was a stranger. Sort of. Sure we’d had sex but I didn’t know him and I sure didn’t like the effect he was having on me. I could envision myself weeping over him like a schoolgirl over a picture of her favorite pop star. That didn’t set well with me. I didn’t like to show weakness and if he knew what he was doing to me, he might try to use it to his advantage.
“Stop,” he said as soon as my hand was on the door knob.
“What is it?” I snapped and whirled around. “What do you want? We’re finished here, okay? Done.”
He shook his head. “No, we are not done. Not yet. Not today.”
“Fuck you,” I said and started to turn around.
He took three steps and was on me. I started to scream at him, to tell him to stop, but his hand came up and gave me a slight touch on my lower back.
“I will not lose you today,” he whispered in my ear.
“What does that mean?”
“Stop running from me,” he said softly, pushing my hair back and pressing his face into my neck.
“No. François,” I murmured, though I didn’t want him to stop. “Don’t.”
“Shh,” he said.
“No,” I said and pushed him away.
He stared at me, then stepped in to me and pushed his heavy body onto mine. I started to push back, but found myself pushing into him, moving with him, pressing against him.
He grabbed the back of my head and pulled it back so that my lips were near his. Then he gave me a hard kiss, thrusting his tongue into my mouth. He was going to give it to me again, this time rough. It was like this brutish side of him suddenly appeared out of nowhere and he was going to make sure he had control of not only the situation but of me, as well. Control me? No. No way. That infuriated me. I felt myself wanting to hurt him, wanting to push him away, but then he just held me tightly, not letting me move. I pushed against him but he held his embrace. I stopped moving and felt it, felt him next to me, so close. Then something in me just broke and I felt… I felt… Oh. God. Something just took me over and I felt lust. Again. I just felt it. Maybe I brought that out in him. I don’t think it was there before. Maybe he brought it out in me, but it was a hunger, a need we both shared that came to the surface. It frightened me but at the same time, I couldn’t get enough. His need was to dominate. My need was to submit. It went along together like peanut butter and jelly.
We slid down to the floor, out lips locked. Then he paused and that made me pause. He pressed his forehead to mine, like he was going to make sure I didn’t look away. Then he pushed my sweater up and his hand slipped into my bra. He grabbed the top of it and pulled it down so my breast popped out. I started to moan. It was almost too much. It was almost too soon. But then… Then he tore off my clothes, throwing them over his head and to the side as his hands desperately tried to get to my naked skin. Soon, I was naked. And I wanted him naked, too. I tore at his clothes, literally ripping them off his body until he was as naked as me. I paused for a moment to take in his body. It was beautiful, long, lean and muscular. He was perfect. I wanted him more than ever so I grabbed him and pulled him on top of me, pressing my naked body into his. It felt so good.
And then we were fucking.
Soon, my legs were wrapped round his waist and I was getting the most out of our fuck. It was a long, hot, sweaty one. The rain began to beat down, just right outside where we were. I was so spent I was almost shaking with exhaustion. But I couldn’t stop. I’d never had so much sex in my life. But it felt right, like something you’re supposed to do on a rainy afternoon.
This time, it was all about doing it, fucking. We didn’t kiss and we didn’t grope, we just fucked. He fucked me like that, not blinking. Our eyes connected and locked, unflinching uninhibited. But it didn’t last. We were too wound up for that. We were so wound up, we were about to explode just from the overload of lust in our bodies for each other. It wasn’t long before we both came, almost simultaneously. As we came, he pulled out and came all over my chest and tits. That’s when I grabbed him and pulled his mouth on top of mine and ate at him. We kept kissing until we finally came back down from the fucking.
Once it was over I got up, got dressed and prepared to leave. He didn’t say a word and neither did I. There wasn’t much to talk about, not after you spend time like that with someone. It was a done deal. And it was over.
So, I ran off again. I found myself on the Metro, then walking back to the apartment beneath the Parisian sky, almost crying, wondering what the hell I was doing and where the hell this might lead. I was afraid of losing myself in him and I was afraid because he might end up hurting me, way more than my ex-husband ever thought to. François was a man you didn’t just love, but a man you fell in love with and that love would drive you crazy. It would be a possessive love and I was not a possessive person. This new part of me that he was bringing out scared me. I didn’t like it and I didn’t want to get wrapped up in it.
When I opened the door to my apartment, James looked up at me from the couch. “Where the hell have you been?”
I shrugged. Even though we shared everything, I would never share this with anyone, not even my best friend. Besides, what would I tell him? That I wanted this man to take me over, to take control, to fuck me silly? While I wasn’t a prude, I sure wasn’t an exhibitionist, nor a braggart. I would never flaunt anything, not something so sexual and personal.
He eyed me and said, “And where the hell is your bicycle?”
I groaned.
“Oh, well,” he said then jerked his head towards an enormous bouquet of red roses. “At least tell me who those are from.”
> I gasped at the sight of the roses, at the enormity of the bouquet. It was gorgeous. Of course, I knew who they were from. When I read the card, all it said was, “Any time.”
“What does that mean?” James asked.
I shrugged.
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Not really,” I said, refusing to share. “It’s just some guy I met in a café. We went to…dinner. I mean lunch. We had lunch.”
He nodded. “It must have been one helluva lunch,” he said and picked up a red box and handed it to me. “This came, too.”
I stared at him and opened it up. It was a beautiful stainless steel tank watch from Cartier. From Cartier! It was heavy and looked like it cost a fortune. I glanced at the note again: “Any. Time,” and smiled. I got it. Quite clever, François.
“Try it on,” he said.
I took the watch out of the box and slipped it on, then shook my arm, moving it around before letting it fall to my wrist. “That’s really cool.” I smiled at him. “Like it?”
He nodded. “Obviously someone likes you.”
Yeah, I guess he did.
He grabbed my arm and took a good look at the watch, shaking his head, then whistled under his breath, “Whew! Are you fucking kidding me? What the hell did you do to this guy?”
That was a good question.
How Do You Like It?
“You like that, don’t you?” François asked softly.
I looked away from him and felt embarrassment wash over my cheeks, over my entire body. I was sitting in chair, waiting for what was coming next, anticipating it, wanting it. I wanted it so much I almost dreaded its arrival out of fear that I might be disappointed.